'cause it was back of the house where no one could see him. But
folks could hear, and they say it was awful sometimes hearing
poor Henry plead with his uncle not to kill him. But nobody
dared interfere 'cause old Tom was such a reprobate he'd have
been sure to get square with 'em some way. He burned the barns
of a man at Harbour Head who offended him. At last Henry died
and his uncle and aunt give out he died in one of his fits and
that was all anybody ever knowed, but everybody said Tom had just
up and killed him for keeps at last. And it wasn't long till it
got around that Henry WALKED. That old garden was HA'NTED. He
was heard there at nights, moaning and crying. Old Tom and his
wife got out--went out West and never came back. The place got
such a bad name nobody'd buy or rent it. That's why it's all
gone to ruin. That was thirty years ago, but Henry Warren's
ghost ha'nts it yet."

"Do you believe that?" asked Nan scornfully. "_I_ don't."

"Well, GOOD people have seen him--and heard him." retorted Mary.
"They say he appears and grovels on the ground and holds you by
the legs and gibbers and moans like he did when he was alive. I
thought of that as soon as I seen that white thing in the bushes
and thought if it caught me like that and moaned I'd drop down
dead on the spot. So I cut and run. It MIGHTN'T have been his
ghost, but I wasn't going to take any chances with a ha'nt."

"It was likely old Mrs. Stimson's white calf," laughed Di. "It
pastures in that garden--I've seen it."

"Maybe so. But I'M not going home through the Bailey garden any